


The Ending

by littleladyyoda



Category: Fleabag (TV)
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Romance, alternative ending, love these two
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-13
Updated: 2020-12-13
Packaged: 2021-03-11 01:41:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 518
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28047108
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/littleladyyoda/pseuds/littleladyyoda
Summary: "She doesn’t make much of the running footsteps behind her. It’s almost midnight and she’s entirely certain it’s some drunken idiot. She pulls her coat more tightly around herself, taking comfort in the knowledge that, should the need arise, the statue is heavy enough to act as an effective weapon."Fleabag/Priest
Relationships: Fleabag/Priest (Fleabag)
Comments: 2
Kudos: 38





	The Ending

**Author's Note:**

> I'm doing a re-post of some of my favorite works from my previous, now-deleted account, so if this seems familiar, that's why.

She doesn’t make much of the running footsteps behind her. It’s almost midnight and she’s entirely certain it’s some drunken idiot. She pulls her coat more tightly around herself, taking comfort in the knowledge that, should the need arise, the statue is heavy enough to act as an effective weapon.

She is thoroughly surprised when, seconds later, he is doubled over in front of her, panting. She opens her mouth, but he holds up a hand to stop her as he catches his breath. Finally, still pulling in mouthfuls of air, he stands up.

“What are you doing?” she asks. 

“I’m an idiot.”

“What?”

“I’m an idiot,” he says. “I wasn’t even a block away when I realized. And then I was enough of an idiot to keep going halfway back to the rectory before I was brave enough to turn around and see if I hadn’t fucked it up entirely.”

“Don’t do this to me,” she says, not unkindly. “Don’t do this to me if you aren’t sure. If you’re going to decide tomorrow that it’s not me, it’s really God. Please.”

He shakes his head. 

“If you aren’t sure and you break my heart, again, I ---“

She stops abruptly when he drops to his knees in front of her. He reaches out for her hand, which she gives him. 

“This is going to sound entirely stupid and not even remotely adequate,” he says. 

“Give me your worst,” she replies.

“I love you,” he says. “I’ve loved you since you wreaked havoc at the restaurant the very first time we met.” He chuckles softly. “And it occurred to me, that if I think I’m an idiot, God must think I’m an even bigger idiot for giving you up, for denying myself the kind of love that people look for their whole lives. That there isn’t any reason I can’t have you both.”

“You want me to share you with God,” she says, lifting an eyebrow.

“Well…yes,” he says, softly.

“And you don’t think God will mind sharing you with me?” she asks.

“I’m not sure. I’m not sure how it works. I’m not sure how any of it works,” he says, helplessly. “I just know that if I walk away from this, I’ll regret it my whole life.”

She gently pulls him to his feet.

“You don’t think God will mind sharing you with a messy, complicated, confused, somewhat drunken, sometimes whorish ---“

She’s cut off by his lips on hers. In the midst of their kiss, which probably lasts fifteen seconds, but doesn’t feel remotely long enough for her, she has the idle thought of what the passersby must think of them, the woman clutching a nude statue and the Roman-collar clad priest entwined on the sidewalk.

He pulls back, leaning his forehead against hers.

“I don’t think God will mind,” he says. “Given that you don’t mind sharing a poor, soon-to-be-unemployed and almost certainly soon-to-be-defrocked former priest with God.”

She laughs.

“I don’t mind.”

He smiles, kissing her again and then, wrapping his arms around her, looks up at the sky and mouths, "thank you."


End file.
